Tell Me a Story
by Herr Fritz
Summary: "Make it a scary story," Jim instructed, stripping to his boxers as the two walked to the bedroom. "Not a fairytale?" Sebastian looked regretfully at the clothes he'd have to pick up the next morning. "Nah, I'll be hearing plenty of that later." MorMor, began as fluff, then turned serious as I realized that Jim is incapable of true fluff in my fics.


**I wanted to have Seb tell Jim a story, but it took me **_**ages**_** to figure out how to do that without being too fluffy (I can't see how fluff can be plausable with Moriarty, so really admire the authors who can pull it off). Weeping Angel's reference! Who knew Moran was such a Doctor Who fan?!**

**/-/**

"Sebby, I want a story before I go to bed."

"Don't be so juvinille."

"Now Seb, I need a story to fall asleep." Moriarty leaned over Sebastian, teeth clicking against his ear. "And I _do_ hate it when I can't falling asleep. I need to turn my attention to activities more…tiring."

Sebastian suddenly became more aware of the stitches pulling at his hip. The last time Jim had trouble falling asleep, he had called his sniper away from a priority case and had proceeded to…exhaust himself enough to sleep through the night.

"Fine. One story."

"Make it a scary story," Jim instructed, stripping to his boxers as the two walked to the bedroom. Sebastian looked regretfully at the clothes as they littered the hallway. He'd have to pick those up tomorrow. With _his_ luck, the Westwood would wrinkle and he'd have to iron it for Jim. Damn criminal mastermind can't even handle an iron without burning himself.

"Not a fairytale?"

"Nah, I'll be having plenty of that soon enough."

"All right." The two were in the bedroom then, Sebastian sitting closer to the foot of the bed while his boss took up the whole upper half, lounging across it.

"Well? I'm _waiting_!"

"A scary story…" Sebastian thought for a moment before launching in. "Not too long ago, there was a happy family with good children. They were always loving and caring, and the parents loved to spend time with their children. One day, on the parent's anniversary, they decided to have a nice night out by themselves. So they called a babysitter, told her to do whatever she wanted, as long as she put the kids to bed by eight."

"Are the children monsters? That would be predictable," Jim interrupted. Sebastian shot him a withering look before continuing.

"So the parents went out and had a good time. At a quarter to ten they got a call on their cell phone from the babysitter. She said," Sebastian raised his voice to a higher pitch, "'I'm watching the telly in the den, and I was wondering if I could move you angel statue away from the window. It's looking in, and it's creeping me out.' The parents were silent for a moment before the dad responded, 'take the children and hide. We'll call the police. We don't have an angel statue.' The parents rushed home, but it was too late. When they got there, the children had disappeared and the babysitter was found dead, her neck broken."

Sebastian looked at the criminal below him. "The only thing the parents could tell the police was 'she shouldn't have blinked.'" He waited in approval for Jim to nest under the covers, but instead…

"Pppth!" he got a raspberry.

"That wasn't at all scary." Jim looked up at Sebastian with an almost _disappointed_ look. Without warning, his hand flew up and struck Sebastian across the face. "Tell a scary story- a _better_ one, or I'll make sure _you'll_ want to stay in bed for the rest of the week."

Sebastian looked down at his boss. Even in his boxers, wrapped halfway in Egyptian cotton sheets, he was _terrifying_. No wonder he worshipped his boss.

"There was a world full of boring, ordinary people," the sniper began. Jim nodded.

"Dreadfully frightening. See? You're doing better already."

"And among these ordinary people there was a genius. His name was…" Sebastian thought for a moment before smirking, "well, his name wasn't important. What _was_ important was what he did- or more so, what he _thought_.

But this genius was so bored, he began turning his attention to brilliant things. _Beautiful things_. He would arrange coups, orchestrate robberies, corrupt governments and topple empires. He could do things only the gods dreamed of. He directed lesser minds to create chaos and destruction.

But none of the ordinary people saw the beauty in what he did. Little by little, they whispered, and they protested, and they stirred." Sebastian paused. Jim's breath was shallow, involved. "It didn't matter how much more brilliant, how perfect, how _god-like_ the genius was, the averages outnumbered him. He had gone too far in their minds, and they were uprising, like an army of ants carelessly tearing apart a spider's carefully-constructed web."

"And he stopped them?" Jim interrupted. Sebastian stared straight into his eyes, dark and cold.

"No. He was genius, but they were angry. They didn't want a criminal in their midst, at least not one who wasn't average like them. They took him down and the killed him. They destroyed his name, and through that, his legacy. All traces of him were gone, all those who worshipped him were discredited, and the world went back to the side of the angels." Sebastian bared his teeth. "_The end_."

"Daddy doesn't like this story!" Jim's hands wrapped themselves in fists around the sheets. "It's too-"

"Scary?"

Jim's eyebrows furrowed in confusion as Sebastian leaned forward, hugging him in a rare display of affection. "It's just a story, Jim."

"I know," Jim growled into Seb's shoulder, but his voice fell to a murmur. "But it's almost true. That's why I have to solve the problem."

"What problem?"

The blankets rustled as Jim detangled himself from Sebastian, connection gone as quickly as it had come. "The _final_ problem." There was a moment when he kicked his sniper, fitting himself under the sheets as tight as he could, then an exasperated snort. "_Good night_, Seb."

"Night," Sebastian took his dismissal in stride, rising from the bed and taking no offense to the irritated Jim he had created. He turned off the lights as he left the room, closing the door as a courtesy.

As he stood in the hall, he cast his eyes around, suddenly aware of the shadows lurking in the corners. They certainly wouldn't do, upsetting Jim after he's been uncharacteristically- and _boringly-_ spooked. The corners of Sebastian's mouth turned up in a stiff grin as he looked at the walls surrounding him.

He knew what he'd leave Jim with in the morning.

/-/

"Sebby! I kept waking up last night! I blame your stupid story!"

Jim barged out of his room at seven sharp the next morning, half-expecting his sniper to round the corner, cursing under his breath about unfair working conditions and pansy-assed bosses. To his surprise, the flat was as quiet as it was when he first set foot in it, month ago before he even know the enigma named Sebastian.

It wasn't until he looked in the corner and saw the distinct lack of gun cases and tripods that Jim remembered Sebastian wasn't there. He had that stakeout- the one he's been griping about for months.

His hand in pocket, Jim prepared to send a vicious morning text to his employee, when he saw something strange on the end table.

It was Sebastian's favorite pistol. The one that never left the holster on his side.

Crossing the hall, Jim picked up the gun, marveling in the cool metal and weighty handle. Underneath the barrel was a note, however, and his attention quickly turned to that.

_-Jimmy,_

_To keep away the monsters in those scary stories. Who knows. Maybe you can use this to solve the final problem._

_Always yours,_

_Seb.-_

Jim smiled. Forget the scary stories. There was a problem to be solved.

And Sebastian had provided the solution.

/-/

**As always, I'd love it if you could review! It's flattering when I see people 'favorite' my stories, even months after they've been posted, but it really does make my day when someone takes the extra few seconds to send a review, even if it's just 'that's good'.**

**Moriarty was real!**


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